Humanity's Titans
by The Alamore
Summary: The World is cruel but beautiful. Many people recognize the painful verse but do not heed its calling but those who do prove it exists. Saviours, heroes, mercenaries, warriors and soldiers; all of them must stand against a world besieged by the apothegm and guide not only themselves but the remnants of humanity to salvation against an indestructible force.


A fascinating thing, the world;

our home, our little plain of existence we all take for granted. Does it fascinate so? Our Earth only has one goal: disguise itself in order to kill you. You don't need any luck, any golden touch, there is no way around it, and there is certainly no way to cheat the system. All that one need is the skill imprinted in their DNA, the substance that ran through their families for four billion years to survive a hostile world since before they were even conceived.

That was the one thing he knew was true through his whole entire life. Every single day of his life; many things, ruthless killing things have been keeping a constant reminder that it was true. That the world is cruel as it is beautiful. But why are we here? Why are we just…. here? There is no evidence behind our existence; Are we a race, scared by sins from a previous life that must serve a life of pain to atone for them? Are we an error in evolution, a stain- a mistake by Mother Nature that will be her undoing? Or are we created by a Holy being that wanted nothing more than to toy with us? Many people, streaming from religion to science, tried to solve the mystery of are existence. Why are we here?

It's simple: A test

A test to see what you are made of. Are you one to lay down, or stand up? Are you one to forge your own life, or react and adapt? It is a path of finding one's self, what they are capable of and how they can overcome obstacles. How far till they lose themselves in the inflate pit known as despair? How far till their morals brake and they turn into the thing that sociality and themselves fear to be? How far till their hopes and dreams become a distant memory, replaced will bitterness and anger? How far till their mind be formed into a casket, housing their former selves? But most importantly, out of everything, the test will come to question:

 _Will you choose the lesser or the greater Evil if you were to cross with that unfortunate path?_

He knew very well that this is a task- a mantle of responsibility that is only allowed to all beings who learn to walk or talk. Those who don't are people who question themselves and stray away from their nature, creating more pain for themselves rather than preventing it. He knew that he wasn't like them- he'll never be like them.

For years of his unnatural life, he had been formed from the world's cruel pleasure of pain, his body and mind melded into a being of understanding and agony. His mind, once broken now strong, immune to the thoughts and actions of the twisted and deadly world that tried to creep within his physic. His body once fragmented, now whole, safe from the physical force of cruelty that, at many times in his young life, took a hold of this very being and shook him into the ground. There was also a cold abyss that circled him for years, something he could never get rid of. Every time in his life; if he cried, mourned, whimpered, or clawed at anything he could use to drag himself out of the void of reality; it was there. Misery, that what it was. Misery hung to him like a shadow, only when consumed by darkness, can that shadow disappear; but it will transform into the darkness around you. Death seemed to be the only way for a time, thoughts of the hurt and agony disappearing forever with only a swipe of the wrists, a nose of a rope or in the jaws of a beast. He thought about those ways. For a while, the world seemed to throw the worst at him and the only way to fight back was to accept death that the world was so happily displaying and parading around in his face; waiting for him the accept it. For a while, he wanted to accept it and at one point, embrace its boundless opportunities it proposed. He was at one of those points now, he was at the edge of his own knife; havering only a few inches above his throbbing heart, the organ some many a come to known as the primary link to humanity's most powerful weapon. Love was that weapon, the weapon that, if handled correctly, could be used for great things. It could bring a kingdom do to its knees, it could incant the most venomous of monsters, or it could turn a God-like man into a crumbling mess, willing to except the cold embrace of death. He was the former. An event that coursed him to receive the void of darkness and emptiness.

The day, a man fuelled with petty jealousy and greed became one of his constant reminders of what type of world he lived in. The day his family became one of his constant reminders of what type of world that he lived in. The day of his death became one of his constant reminders of what type of world that he lived in.

A cruel world

But…the death of his world- the day of his resurrection, those became his constant reminders that this world was beautiful.

For once in his life, he looked to the world, his knife and himself. The rain was perfect for the world, a way to wash away the blood that was about to be spilled onto the Earth. The knife, one of his greatest weapons that he took many lives with, both human and non-human ones. It almost seemed fitting that the blade needed to take his life too. 'Return to sender' as most bandits would say; before he slit their throats. He looked at himself, a man who was wrapped within the body of a stigmatised stereotype, though once thought of as a hero to people he served. A knight who slayed monstrosities and rescued innocent people. A rival for fellow swords men to challenge and take the mantel of honour that he held. A man who was once an outcast was now brought into homes where he was an honoured guest; where the hosts would offer him food, water, and women. He took no honour in it, it was the people's decision; not his. To himself, he was just a sword for hire, a man who loved to dance with life and death as he twilled his blades and strike his opponents down. His whole life was a deadly dance where one fatal step could be his last. His body and mind were all scared by a misstep, a lesson well learnt during his career. Yet, here he was, a scared man who received a friendly reminder of what world he lived it. He was no hero, no knight, no wealthy opponent or an honoured guest;

 _He is a Witcher_

He was nothing but a sword for hire. A Sword; a tool that would be used by either a powerful man or a senseless fool. He was wielded by a fool, a fool who thought he could handle whatever the world threw at him. He was wrong and now he was about to accept the pain that death was rightly going to spare him from. But, for the first time in his life, a life he never wanted but accepted anyway, he looked to the world; his pain, misery, agony, lost and despair. For the first time in his existence…...

He smiled.

He chuckled.

He laughed.

The world, punishing and unpredicting, beared witness to a man, who in all rights was biologically incapable for showing any outwards emotion; was laughing. His face, rugged and blemished; thought to be permeably fixed on one form of facial movement, was stretched and pulled into the form of a human smile. His throaty and rusty voice sent multiple waves of chuckles and hurtful bursts of laughter. His eyes were sealed shut, wrinkles that he didn't know that were there showed themselves. His face hurt, facial muscles that haven't been used for in years were moving and flexing at an uneasy pace. If anyone were it witness this turn of events, they would have called this a mental breakdown; and they would be correct.

After several hours of historical laughter, he slowly but hesitantly, draw his knife away from his chest. The volley of water falling from the sky seemed to glide effortlessly off of the steel dagger. The liquid only mode contact with it for only a fraction of second before it bounced off, falling onto the muddy ground. He kneed there, the simplest thing in the world was captivating him like a child to a new toy. He stared at the dagger with mild content and curiosity; a blade that he was going to use against him. What would his family say? His friends? Comrades? What would they think of him if he took his own life by the hand of his own weapon? He took several long breathes and stared at the dagger, viewing the stainless steel's reflection of his eyes. His dilated eyes with his Tapetum lucidum shining at him. What would he think of himself? Foolish, coward, weak. Those were the first words that came to mind; they were his views on people who couldn't handle life and the challenges it throws that them.

He sat there, still as the hail of rain continued to soak him. Outward, he almost looked dead; the blank stare and the nonexistence of breathing was enough evidence. Inside, he was waging a war. He was not foolish, yet he was controlled by his emotions and motivation to be back with his family, even if it means killing himself. He was not a coward, yet here he was, having a mental breakdown because he was going to take the easy-way out. He was not weak, yet he didn't dare solve the problem or plunge the dagger into his chest. He was a foolish coward who was weak.

…

…

…

 _He was weak…. But all people can grow out of it. Grow stronger_

Slowly, his breathing grow, his eyes flexed to adapted to the new environment. The endless mass of trees blocked any further view of his surrounding area. His eyes drift to the large body of water behind him. A perfect circular lake, its murky depths sparkled as water-droplets continued to land on its surface. The rim of the lake laid the greenest grass he has ever seen with batches of beautiful flowers bouncing at rain hit them. The droplets glide against the purple surface, grazing over the flowers yellow stained tear-drop. The flowers were Iris.

 _People can learn from being weak_

Rising off the soiled ground, the mud and blood washing away as the shower from above rained down.

 _People can become strong_

His grandmaster-crafted Wolf armour groaned and clattered together, his steel and silver swords hit the back of his legs as he rose.

 _People fight to forget weakness_

Standing at his full height, he drew a deep breath.

 _I…._

Without a second thought, he took a step forward.

 _Gwynbleidd…_

And another step- Water splashed everywhere as his foot landed in a ditch.

 _Butcher of Blaviken…_

He tumbled over, his equipment strapped to his body forced his body to the ground.

 _The White One…_

Groaning, he once again rose off the face of the Earth.

 _The White Wolf…_

He took another step forward, the dirt from the fall peeling off of him.

 _Will fight!_

He felt pain shooting through his hand.

 _I…will kill…_

He winced, his other hand latching onto the other, trying to ease the pain

 _Whoever murdered my family_

He brought his injured hand upwards

 _For Dandelion_

His dagger, stained with his blood, was impaled in hand; curtesy from the fall.

 _For Tris_

He pulled the weapon out, the wound from the hand closing in a manner of seconds

 _For Yennifer_

As he stared at the blooded blade, he saw himself; he saw his face was stained with tears.

 _For Ciri_

For an instant, the flow of rain stopped, as did his tears.

 _I_

His fists clenched the dagger's handle, cracks begin to form along the blade as he held it harder.

 _Will_

Then, with one final motion, he broke the dagger.

 _Fight!_

 **Humanity's Titans**

 **Chapter 1: A Step in the Right Direction**

* * *

The forest almost seemed tranquil when it rained. The only sound that the forest ever made during a season of rainfall were dripples of water running off of the leaves and the soft beats of the rain hitting the floor. The rain seemed to dull the colour of the forest, what was once a coloury assortment of green and brown with many different mediums being blended together, worthy of an artist's grand work, was now merged into a gloomy, dark green. The heat in the atmosphere created a light fog that hovered on the forest's floor. All beings that inhabited the wood were sheltered away in their barrows or dens, all of them following their natural instincts to stay dry and keep warm. The only ones that dared to venture through the forest were the animals desperate for food, and the predators who would feast on them.

The forest drew within a quarry, the cliff-faces ranging from the height of thirty-six metres to forty-four metres, which stretched across twenty-six kilometres in length. Many of the trees that formed the forest were Giant Sequoia, trees that have known to be one-thousand-and-eight-hundred to two-thousand-and-two-hundred years old and grew to the height of seventy-six meters. They weren't as big as the ones that grew in The Titan Forest, which ranged from eighty to one-hundred metres tall, but they were just as captivating for any nature lover. Through the dense and immersive forest, laid a plot of land that was bear of any vegetation of any sorts. The land was only two kilometres in diameter of a rocky surface, stained in a sandy-white. Just by the rim of the plot was a makeshift camp.

It was a temporary camp, only a small fire was sighted. It's a method used only for travellers who only need a quick brake from their voyages. Through the hail of rain, the small fire struggled to keep alight; all that was preventing it from dying was a bundle of sticks, leaves and a man hovering over it. The man was tall, paled with very defined muscles pulsing every time he moved. He moved his gloved hand over his face, brushing away some of his long milky white hair that escaped his ponytail. His face was littered with scars, each one of them have tale of adventure and misfortune; few though were covered by his pale beard. He had unnatural, cat-like eyes that glowed an orange-golden tinge that showed caution and awareness. By his physic appearance, looks to in his late forties, with a body of a professional athlete that didn't know when to quit. What he wore was enchanting and fascinating. The overall colour of his outfit was black; the leather was tight around his body but at the same time it was lose to allow positive movement. Over the leather were plates of armour, glittering steel that offered the most defence in a battle. Secured on his belt was a crossbow with golden trimmings along the curves and edges; a bolt already loaded and ready to fire. Two giant great swords were holstered tightly onto his back, one was silver to handle unspeakable monsters while the steel one could lay waste to endless amounts of humans in seconds. Each one of them had the capability to slice a man clean in half with little too no effort. Hung loosely around his neck was his pendent, a silver ferocious wolf with its sharp main and daggered teeth. The man's name:

 **Geralt of Rivia**

Hearing that his fire was struggling against the wicked weather, Geralt stopped his Meditation, his eyes heavy from the countless hours of relaxation. He lifted himself off of the wet ground and took off towards the tree line. As Geralt walked under one of the trees, its many branches providing shelter from the rain, he signed as the rain stopped pouring on him. He stood there for some time, soaking in the sounds of the wood and enjoying the sense of dryness. However, he knew he had to retreat back into the rain, unless he wanted his prey to get the jump on him. Bending over, he collected several 'dry' sticks and leaves that laid on the bed of earth to fuel his fire; after all, it was the only thing that kept his testicles turning into icicles. Gather a decent amount, he travelled back into the hail of falling water; coursing a grunt to escape his mouth as the cold took a hold over his body again. Arriving back to his fire, he carelessly dumped his carried load into the flame, triggering it to flicker and crack. Soon the flame started to catch on to its new fuel source and began to eat away at it; growing in size. Satisfied, Geralt kneeled down onto the muddy Earth and continued his Mediation. An hour seemed to go by as nothing else happened; only the sounds of the forest cracking and groaning as relentless winds pushed them. There was the sound of a lone deer grazing, before its muffled cry echoed out from the forest. This was followed up by the iconic sound of a chorus of wolfs howling in the storm; cheering for their successful hunt. Hopefully Geralt would be as successful as the wolfs by the end of the day.

 _Drip_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

 _…_

Geralt's eyes flared open, his iris dilating to adjust to the change of light. Quickly, his eyes darted left and right in quick sensation, his mind recording all that was around him. He stared at the trees, how they slowly danced with the winds, their arms swaying lightly- then-

 _Drip_

He felt a small rumble under his feet. A shower of water fell from the branches of the trees simultaneously, creating a larger hail of rain to fall on Geralt. Unaffected by the added water, he continued to survey his surroundings. His ears were true as they picked every single thing that went bump in the wood. He noticed the lack of howls from the pack of wolves earlier and instead the sound of their feet scuffling away. A sign of what was to come.

 _Boom_

'There we go' Geralt thought with a hint of excitement shooting through him.

The ground shook and quivered in a steady rhythm, the same one that could be associated with something walking.

 _Boom_

 _…_

 _…_

 _Boom_

The vibrations from the Earth shot up through Geralt and rocked with body from within. 'It's close' He concluded.

Taking his time, he rose from the ground, uninfected by the tumbling ground that shook the surrounding trees, threating to uproot them. Standing to his full height, the steel of his armour giving a blinding shine as water bounced off of it. Drawing forth one of his two blades, a silver bane that glistened with fiery italics from a forgotten age, he laid the tip of the blade on his left palm. He slowly ran his palm across the weapon, it's body so fine as it almost sliced through his thick leather gloves. Holding the sword with his right hand, his left hand went down into a satchel strapped on his body. Fishing through it, he found his target to be a small, slim vial filed with black liquid. The unknown liquid swished in it vial, the small amount of air inside was surrounded in carbonated froth. Geralt brought the vial over the silver blade and popped the cork lid off. Geralt recoiled at the smell that emanated from the vial, a curse threatening to emerge from his lips. The scent was awfully close to the body-odder of an obese man and a Redanina sewer line. Pushing past the smell, Geralt poured the liquid onto the blade; a sizzle was produce from the pair meeting. Emptying all the vial's content onto his sword, he threw the useless vial away. Grabbing a rag attached to his belt, he started to vigorously rub the sword. After a few wipes, he braced. Standing with his shoulders width-apart from his feet, he rested the hilt of his blade just by his abdomen. The vial liquid coated the blade in slick black, the water doing nothing to wash away the fluid; only bursting into steam. Over the course of time, the thunderous stomps of his prey grew and quicken with each pace. The trees from the far end of the dirt plot snapped and split as something barged through them.

 _Rattle – Clink_

Looking down at his chest, he saw his most prized position, other than his manhood, bouncing around. His wolf-medallion, clean and sharp as ever, was dancing across his metal chest; the head bouncing back and forth in a frenzy of clicks and rattles. The only time it would ever do this was when something interesting, powerful or dangerous was around. Soon, Geralt's prey broke through the tree line with its long stride.

The being of Geralt's thirstful hunt was something that only the demonic existences that caused the Conjunction of Spheres could only produce. The mere sight, hell- being in the mere presents of it was enough to make any brave warrior cringe, both in fear and in disgust. The overgrown bipedal monstrosity strode through the rocky plot with long, powerful strides. Its body was an enigma of confusion and deformity. Its legs were disorganised; the feet and calves were all proportional but the thighs were fat and wonky; cleverly designed to fit its beer-belly gut. The chest of the beast looked almost caved in, its rips piercing its skin. The arms of the creature were long and lanky, reaching to its ankles. Its face though…. was more disturbing out of anything else. Its face was the true meaning of horror and fear. It looked human, almost could pull it off if it weren't for its body. The head of the monster surpasses that of its body could handle. Its shoulder length red hair was drenched with water, covering its forehead. Its ears too small to even see nor even clarify as ears to begin with. Its nose completely non-existent. Its mouth was permanently pulled to an ear-to-ear smile. Its teeth were serrated bone daggers that could peel the flesh on a man with ease. Its eyes though only showed that of something dead. Its eyes never showed any form of emotion nor life in it. It was a dead being. It was a monstrosity. It isn't human. It's worthy game. To Geralt and this world, this abomination was called-

 **A Titan**

Monstrosities, Demons, Horrors. Beasts that rule the world unchecked and unprovoked. It is not known how or why these titanic beings of stupidity and horror came to existence; all there is to know about them is they lumber around the world aimlessly and eat any human that dares to cross paths with it. How they reproduce, seeming that they lacking reproductive organs, is unknown. Titan Species as a whole have the ability to regenerate any form of physical oppose; ranging from simple cuts to missing limbs. Titans have known to have regrown their heads back in under half a minute. The downside to their healing though is they are required to have physical contact to air and the sun light.

"Why is it that every time I see any of your kind, you guys get uglier and uglier" Geralt questioned the bumbling beast miles away.

The Titan didn't answer the question, instead it continued its trek over to Geralt. It was still a few metres away from Geralt, and at the rate that it was traveling, it will only take six minutes before it came upon him. Easing up, Geralt broke his stance and travelled to his little camp fire. Looking directly towards the fire, he flicked his wrist causing a bright, blue aura to be emitted from his hands. The camp fire did the same and soon extinguish itself. Still holding his tainted sword, he drove the blade straight into the ground and rested upon it. His left-hand clasps the grip of the weapon as he leaded on it. Fishing yet another vial from his belt, he brought it to eye level. Unlike the other liquid, this one was a claim, the light blue moved only when Geralt moved. Using his teeth, Geralt prided the cork off and swallowed the vial's essence. His body reacted violently. He threw his head forward, his jaw threating to brake as he bit down on his words of displeasure; his muscles convulsed as Thunderbolt circled around his system. The veins around neck turned a violent purple before disappearing in a wave of new muscle-mass. His leather gear stretched as his body grew only a slight inch. Geralt clenched the blade handle with both hands as the pain subdued. Closing his eyes, he listened to the Titan stomping towards him at an alarming stride.

 _Three minutes_

The Titan was almost here, he could feel its feet crushing the Earth, he could hear its sinking breath picking up pace as he neared him and he felt his medallion rattle against him harder.

 _One minute_

Slowly, the beast knelt down into an awkward squat; its belly threatening to burst if the Titan lowered itself further onto the ground. Drawing on of its lengthy arms from it side, it moved for the kill.

 _Ten seconds_

The arm was almost in reach, its bony fingers outstretched is was prepared to catch its meal.

 _Now_

With the prowess of a dancer and the grace of a bird sawing through clear skies, Geralt summersaulted out of the Titan's closing hand. The thunder-clap of the Titan's hand closing without its prey signalled Geralt to perform his next elegant move. Before he finished his twirl and with both hands firmly grasped on the handle, Geralt brought his blade upwards. Thanks to the combined motion of his evasion and emissive strength, his blade cleared effortlessly through the Titan's hand, rendering hide, flesh and bone into two. It should be known that most Titans never display any emotion, that includes pain. This Titan however, sent out a blood-curtailing cry of agony and pain as it clutched its bloody stump. All over the fleshy stump was the black liquid that was covering Geralt's sword, now was melting the flesh of the Titan. 'One minute till Cursed Oil wears off' Geralt thought before launching into a blinding sprint towards the Titan's legs.

Without any fault in his actions, Geralt ran under the Titan and sliced both the monster's Achilles heels. A violent explosion of steam and deep crimson poured out of the Titan's wounds. Without its primary stability muscle to keep it balanced, the Titan started to wobble. Geralt hoped it would fall forward, so he could easily scale the back and slice the Nape of the Neck; a Titan's only weakness. Unfortunately, the Titan started to tip backwards, causing Geralt to growl in frustration. Without missing a beat, Geralt thrust his hands forward, fingers all stretched but his middle finger, and roared "ARRD!"

Blue lightning danced upon his hand, the arch of energy bounded between his fingers before exploding outwards. Webbing together, the lighting form a wall of blue that connected harshly against the Titan. The mounds of deformed flesh and bone that made up the Titan's backside concaved and imploded as the spherical wall pushed through. Steam and rain seemingly disappeared for a fraction of a second as the Arrd Sign was used. The Titan's lower body thrusted forth from the exiled force, while its upper torso whipped back; its head resting on its lower back. Several sounds were emitted from the beast, all a tune to the snapping of falling trees. Geralt concluded that the beast's spine had been broken in numerus places. Throughout his years on The Path, his instincts and knowledge of unnatural beasts were telling him that the Titan was dead; but he knew better. Looking up, he could see the beast's lingering eyes hovering over him with its smile growing wider as he stood a mere metre away from its lips. The monster opened its mouth, ready to bite its prey, but Geralt remained unmoved. Before the Titan could attack, its legs buckled forward; the wounds of the Achilleas Heels ripped open again. The force that the sign used against it caused the Titan to tip forward.

Seeing the head slowly uplift, Geralt ran towards its backside; where shards of bone were protruding outwards from exposed flesh. Geralt leaped from the rocky ground and into a storm of steam and boiling blood. He hissed in pain as the blistering heat met his venerable skin. His eyes watered as he tried to see through the immense steam. He landed against something soft, wet, sticky and scorching. Through the sweat and tears, he could see the red-mass that made the Titan's body in front of him, quickly stitching back together over his hands. Yanking his hand out, he leaped upwards again to grab a piece of the beast's tail bone for support. Though his senses burned from the heat surrounding him, he felt the shift of gravity affecting him. What was gravity pulling down vertically has now changed to it pulling horizontally. With the added quake that rocked him, he leaped from the tail bone and onto the back of the Titan. The Titan's upper body whipped followed, reconnecting itself and colliding with ground before it. With the Titan now down and its neck venerable, Geralt moved in for the kill. By the time it took Geralt to reach the upper-back, the Titan's hand had been healed, as did its backside and Achilleas Heels. The Titan was now on its hands and knees, ready to stand again. Feeling the back becoming harder to scale, Geralt readied the Silver Blade in his hands for a powerful strike. 'Now or never' Geralt thought to himself.

Planting his foot firmly on a protruding vertebra, he launched himself into the air before the Titan stood fully. Nearing the Nape, he drew his sword back, his blade hissing as the silver glowed a fiery amber.

 _Crack_

His cat-like eyes widen, his sword returned to its silver glint. Time itself became a crawl as he witnessed the neck of his prey snap into an awkward angle before forcing its head one-hundred and eighty degrees to face him. The giant maw of the Titan opened, razor teeth ready to shred the lone Witcher heralding towards its mouth. His combat impulses took control of his next actions; he pivoted his unarmed hand towards himself and yelled "QUEN!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the Titan closed its jaws on him. Instead of meeting lean flesh, the Titan meet a powerful sphere of orange-yellow. The result was devastating for the Titan's maw. The field not only shatter the teeth upon impact, but reflected the expelled force back to it. The shield shattered, leaving a shockwave in it absence. The force broke open the Titan's mouth, letting Geralt careen into its mouth and onto its tongue. Geralt was not one to enjoy places that reeked of decay and shit and covered in a slimy essence, especially the mouth of a man-eating beast. Gagging at the mere smell, Geralt tumbled off the corrupt of the odour; the tongue. Said tongue started to dance around the mouth, searching high and low for Geralt. It swished to the left, knocking into Geralt. "Gah" Geralt growled more in annoyance rather than pain or shock.

Before the tongue could strike him again, he dived to the right. Recovering from the roll, he readied his blade for the incoming muscle. When the tongue moved towards Geralt- he struck it. The blade carved easily through the slimy muscle. However, with Cursed Oil still drenched on the blade, the black liquid latched onto the muscle's wound and started to sizzle. Looking at the small mistake that could cost him his hearing, a quote from Geralt's teacher popped into his mind: _"never be in the mouth of a screaming beast"_

 **"GGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"**

The Titan roared in agony, throwing its head up to emphasise its torment. Geralt, affected by the force of the sudden movement, tumbled towards its throat. Geralt too was in pain: his muscles ached as Thunderbolt was wearing off, his skin burned as he touched the walls of the Titan's mouth, his eyes were halfway singed from the steam surrounding him and his ears stung from the loud roar from before. Finding the strength, he rolled to the right; stretching his arms out to grab something. His hands found a gap in between the Titan's back molar to latch onto. During his tumble, his grip on his weapon gave way; coursing the silver sword to be catapulted down the mouth and into the dark and dank void below, each time the blade's body scratched the throat going down, the beast growled and cried more. 'That's bad' Geralt panicky thought.

That silver sword was the key to escaping his current predicament.

Prying one hand off of the tooth, he reached for his steel sword strapped to his back. Geralt knew the blade wouldn't be as efficient against the Titan as his silver one, but it was better than clawing his way out. Sheaving it out, he prepared to slice his way out. However, before he could start carving his escape, the stump of the Titan's tongue smashed into his back. With the wind knocked out of him, both the grip of his weapon and hold of the teeth were lost. "Aaaaaaagggghhh" He yelled as he tumbled down into the throat of the Titan.

His body hit the uvula and catapult into the moist pit. His vision grew worst as any light was obscured by thick hide and muscle that made up the Titan. His body found the back of the throat, causing the surrounding tube to react by convening outwards; launching Geralt harshly against the other side of the throat. The force of the impact made him winded yet again. He gasped for what little air there was inside the muscular tube. The heat that emanated from surrounding pinkish walls was twice that of the heat stemming from a Titan's wound and stung tenfold more. As Geralt fell deeper and deeper into the Titan's works, he was thrown back and forth again and again, each time his skin blistered from the sweltering heat, the impact winding him and causing another bone or part of his body to break. Finally, thanks to the multiple blows to the head and oxygen deprivation, his conscious state was broken. Everything became numb to him as he drifted to a blackened sleep; he couldn't even tell if he was still falling or that he had landed in its stomach yet. Before he could welcome the state of unconsciousness, a thought ran through his head as his vision went black.

 _'At least I'm not dying here'_

* * *

As its prey sunk deeper and deeper into its bowls, the Titan growled with satisfaction. It's cruel, twisted, newly-healed smile seemingly grew as its taste-buds soaked the exotic sweat that came from that humanoid form. Having recovered from its meal's relentless attack beforehand, the titanic beast began to stride forward following its original path before coming across the white-haired bestial-human; a path leading South. It wasn't until four steps forward did it catch the scent of another human, deep within the tree lines. Thinking of another meal in its belly sent shivers down its spine and made its body lurch forward towards another meal. However, its newly appointed meal saw its change of direction; watching it stomp towards him.

Titan picked its pace, its walking pace soon turned into a run. It was just a mere twenty metres before the Titan arrived to where the scent of its prey laid. Through the tree line, just near the rim of the rocky plot, it saw the being that was secreting the sweet, delicious scent of a human; only it didn't look human at all. It smelt like one but the object wasn't even human. In fact, it was an object created by humans, a corrugated fibreboard container. It was-

 _A Cardboard Box_

However, not detoured by the fact the object wasn't human nor eatable, the Titan continued to charge towards the cardboard box.

Seeing that the Titan wasn't ignoring him, the man, hidden away inside the box, decided it was time to attack.

To the Titan's delight, the top of the box exploded outwards, Styrofoam showering outwards as a man popped out. A dark grey bandana wrapped around the head of the prey. The man was in his early thirties with light brown hair, easily mistakable for red hair. The hair was long that curled and flowed at the back of his head down to his shoulders. He had blue eyes, equally beautiful and menacing. His face, hard, defined and chiselled with a few battle scars spotted here and there but most were covered by the short-boxed beard he was sporting. He wore a grey, skin-tight suit with black padded armour covering his chest and shoulders with dark grey straps and bags. His body was crawling with big, dangerous weaponry that this world has never seen. He had a FN SCAR Mk.17 rife, a 92FS, The Desert Eagle, PP-19 Bizon, Mk.46 MOD1, FN Five-seveN and a M82A2. The greatest out of his arsenal however was pronged on his shoulder and aiming at the head of the Titan, a FIM-92 "Stinger". The man's name:

 **Solid Snake**

Snake squinted as he aimed through the Stinger's guidance lens towards the Titan's head. "Come on! Let's see a nice, big smile" Snake remarked as the Stinger's guidance systems were just about locked on to the Titan's head, the targeting icon slowly zeroing in on the beast's cranium.

The Titan unknowingly smiled wider for Snake, as it was only a few metres away from its next meal.

 _Beep_

Snake smirked as the Stinger's targeting systems locked onto the titanic beast's head, the targeting icon now red as the weapon wined for him to fire. Pulling the trigger, he braced himself as the force of the missile was propelled out from the Stinger and into the air. The missile roared as it sawed through the air, the speed cutting through the rain effortlessly. Following its guidance from the Stinger's on-board computer system, it directed itself straight into the eye of the Titan. The missile shot through like a 44. bullet, blasting blood and jelly from the eye outwards, followed by grey matter from its brain. Before the Titan could react to the damage, the missile finally detonated then it collided with the back of the Titan's skull. The result made an excellent display of blood and visoura. Chunks of the beast rained down, bone, brain and muscle blended with the rain. The Titan's body crumbled, its legs bucked forward and it collided with the ground. The large mass of the Titan, plus its momentum caused the Earth to tremble, with rocks parting from the ground and flying in the air. Snake, seeing the impending rockslide and the Titan body launching towards him, dropped the Stinger and dived out of his box with a large, metal case in tow. With a heavy grunt, Snake dived off to the side of the charging Titanic body and ground; narrowly missing the same fate as the Stinger and his box. Rolling off the ground and back onto his feet without a moment to lose, Snake braced himself against a tree. His heart was pounding with exhilaration, the sudden act of movement sent his body on fire as adrenaline shot through his veins. Leaning his head against the wet tree, he watched in angst as the head of the Titan started to grow back, its twisted jaw weaving back together. Obviously, the missile's blast radius didn't reach nor damage the nape. 'I was so close though' Snake thought as he begrudgingly withdrew his head from the tree.

With a grunt, his pulled the ninety-two by seventy-centimetre steel suitcase over his side and threw it into the mud. The case landed on one of its faces with a heavy thud. The side facing upwards had two perfectly round circles engraved within it. Kneeling down, Snake pushed both circles down at the same time, each one of them sinking slightly into the case. A light hum sounded from the case as Snake waited patiently for something to happen.

 _Click_

Snake immanently stopped pressing on the circles and watched as both split into halves, opening up for two handles to rise out from the case. Snake grabbed them and started to lift up the case over his head.

 _Beep_

 _'Equip stage engage'_

A robotic feminine voice stated, the voice emanating from the giant suitcase.

 _Click_

 _Click_

 _Click_

 _Click_

As he left the case over his head, all awhile thinking about the painful hours of upper-body training has done him proud, several clips that made the side of the case were released; hanging loosely. He threw the case over his head, his forearms hitting his shoulders as the case opened up. The force and momentum applied by the case forced its contents to fly out. A metal exoskeleton flew out and collided painfully with his back. The metal arms that made the mechanical body of the exoskeleton warped around the side his muscular frame; its metal clamps locking together. Soon, the metal bodies on either side of Snake meet near his chest and abdomen and connected together. The back of the exoskeleton continued to fold outwards as more of the metal bindings, pistons and poles expanded around his legs; repeating the same process of wrapping tightly around his legs and connecting together. As soon as every metallic arm was locked together around Snake, a hiss was heard as metal wires within the metal arms retracted towards the largest one of the three-cylinder containers located on the Exo-skeleton's back; tightening the suit even further. Snake inadvertently hissed as pressure was applied to his limbs.

 _'Equip stage was complete'_

Another hiss was heard as the three cylinders attached to Snake's back started to move. The two smaller cylinders on the left and right of Snake's back, coated completely in metallic chrome with only one 5x20 centimetre rectangular window showing meters and meters of steel cables, shifted slightly towards his shoulders. Stopping near his shoulder-plate, the ends of cylinders extended upwards, stopping only to rest on his shoulders. A metal panel on top of them slid open, revelling a large harpoon-head with many teeth. As this was happening, lights on the sides of the largest cylinder lit up, turning the luminescent orange light before into a light blue.

 _'All stages complete, ready for omni-vertical combat'_

Clenching his hand tightly, he felt the metal bones, pistons and bodies tighten around his arm and his torso. 'Might have to talk with the RND team and get them to shorten the equip time', Snake non-c thought, keeping his gaze at the metal pistons sliding in and out of their metal housings.

Focusing his eyes off of his hand and on to the slowly rising form of the Titan, whose deformed head had almost completely reformed, its skull, neck muscles and eyes twitching and spasming as the nerves reconnected and activated. With a step forward, he thrust his shoulder towards the Titan's body.

 ** _Bang_**

The sudden burst of methane ruptured fourth from semi-cylinders on Snake's shoulder, and out from the thick cloud of gas came a harpoon head shooting outwards. Using its many steel teeth, it struck and gripped the surface which it imbedded itself into; which happened to be the shoulder of the rising Titan. Flexing his own shoulder, which the harpoon's capsule was attached to, the device on Snake's back roared as the motors attached to the cable reeled back. Before the cable lost its slack, Snake jumped into the air. Exhausts in the form of cylinders located on Snake's carves, feet, back, shoulder-plates and upper-arms flared to life with cold blue flames raging outwards. A mix of Nitro-glycerine and methane was being pumped into the cylinders attached to numerous tubes and pipes; all which feed straight back into the main body of the Exo-skeleton. With his fists clenched, the flames coming out of the exhausts exploded outwards; propelling him skywards with a bang.

A loud snap echoed as the cable completely lost its slack and whipped Snake towards the Titan; thanks to the power behind the exhausts and cable motors. At the impressive speed of 130km/h, Snake closed the distance between him and the Titan in under half a second. Ignoring the massive amounts of sudden G-Force inflected upon him, Snake reached for his FN SCAR Mk.17 rifle- flipped the safety off- and launched his other harpoon onto the neck of the Titan as he flew past. Flexing his shoulder backwards, the harpoon that was first launched retracted its teeth, wedged itself out of the Titan, and flew back into its semi-cylinder home; ready to be used in Snake's next move. The Titan, with its head fully healed, snapped its head towards the flying body that was Solid Snake. Snake saw the beast move its head towards him with its maw opening and whipped his rifle towards the Titan's face and opened fired. With controlled burst rounds, the 7.62x51mm bullets ripped through the air in a matter of seconds before they buried themselves into the eyes of the Titan. The Titan itself released a pained scream before lunging towards where it last saw Snake. The beast was close though, its jaws harshly snapped just centimetres near Snake; nearly catching his cable as well. Up righting himself and with his feet sliding on the ground, Snake skid along with muddy ground with such speed as to create an arching wave of watery muck as he flew past. His second cable tightened around the neck of the Beast, pulling Snake off of the ground and into the air. In one fluid motion, Snake summersaulted multiple times in the wet air, repeating any water on and around him, primed his Grenade launcher attachment and aligned himself to face the back of the Titan. With his landing steadily approaching, he aimed towards the beast's nape and fired. The explosive met its mark with a furious explosion; ripping through a decent layer of skin and flesh. Snake knew it wasn't enough to kill it, but it was enough from him to finish it off with a few Type-1 Antipersonnel grenades.

He landed with a heavy thud before the crater that was the Titan's Nape. Slinging his rifle over his shoulders, he got quick to work with priming two grenades, its shells purple with a honey-comb print light with a hum of blue light, and rammed them straight into the healing mould of flesh. As fast as the looming shadow that had just appeared over him, Snake leaped off of the Titan as its fingers almost crushed him. He landed harshly on the wet ground, almost tumbling over to stop his momentum. Turning around abruptly, he watched eagerly at the Titan, as it looked completely clueless as to where Snake was, before-

 ** _Boom_**

The Beast's back exploded with a violent array of blood and Titan gore. The cloud was soon dispersed into steam and blended in with the falling rain. The Titan itself looked shell-shock, its twisted face contorted into several emotions; all of them ranging from pain, agony, and surprisingly, relief. The steam pouring from its damaged eyes stopped flowing and the hot condensation from its breath halted. Much like a tree that has been cut through and on the verge of falling, the Titan creaked and groaned as it slowly tumbled forward. Snake leaped out of the way as to avoid the wave of debris from the Titan crashing into the ground with a thunderous sound and a quake of the earth.

All was still within the Quarries' forest, not an animal cried nor were there any sighted for miles around; all for say except the heavy rain and the clicks and clutter of Snake's gear as he walked towards the now lifeless, decomposing body of the Titan.

The skin of the beast bubbled and oozed, its tone slowly turning into a sickening colour of mixed murky brown and cloudy grey. Walking beside the decomposing monster, Snake admired his handy work with a sense of pride and accomplishment. "'Whistle' Hm, it only took what? One Stinger missile, nine 7.62 rounds and two plasma grenades to bring it down? New record I'll say" Snake commented.

"Really? New record? Wow- you know, Wolfie almost managed to kill it without the Omni-Vertical equipment and a sword. Not to mention he didn't destroy twenty-thousand dollars' worth equipment in the progress. Plus, he didn't waste his time doing fancy flips around the target like some second-rate clown trying to empress someone" a feminine voice within his ear communicator snapped at him with a heavy tone of sarcasm and criticism.

Snake hissed begrudgingly in response; continuing along the body before stopping under its exposed rips. "Hey, I'm not the one who got eaten by No-Neck here-" Snake gestured with his thumb towards the decomposing Titan, how labelled as No-Neck "-Speaking of which, think he's still alive?"

"Since this isn't the first time he's been eaten, I would say he is. Now-get him out of there double time"

"Huh? What's the rush? I thought Titan stomach fluid would disappear with the rest of it after death? Couldn't we get him out after it's gone?" Snake questioned as his palm outstretched before him.

Small pulps attached to the Exoskeleton's palm started to glow light blue before projecting a faded figure of lady-like proportions. Bathed within the semi-transparent glow of holographic projections, 'dress' in seamless straps of dark-blue code, stood a woman like no other. Regardless of her small stature of 12cm on Snake's palm, her looks and the atmosphere that surrounded her could dash away any competition that stood a few feet taller than her. The atmosphere she possessed brought a sense of wonderment and amazement to those who have never witness such a creation. Many upon first meeting the woman-of-code thought it was just a soulless avatar or a blue light in the form of a woman; however, her cunning grin, cocked eyebrows, swaying posture and sharp tongue dashed those assumptions away. Her eyes, though at a distance seemed normal, showed a vase array of patterned rings; each used to scan and memorise each detail, insignificant or otherwise, that went on throughout the world that surrounded her. Physically, that was where those blue eyes end, but deeper, mentally speaking, showed her personality to the fullest.

She was a U.N.S.C Smart A.I. Her name is:

 **Cortana**

With a hand on her hip and an annoyed look written on her face, Cortana began to belittle Snake for his negligence. "Need I remind you again that the stomach is the last think to go? Not to mention that as soon as the stomach acid comes into contact with oxygen, it solidifies".

Snake rubbed the back of his head in response and averted his gaze away from hers. "Yeah, I might have-"

"Forgotten about it" Cortana retorted before Snake could finish his excuse.

Awkward silence fell between the two, with Cortana arching her body forward, honing down her glare even further onto Snake, while Snake himself adverted his face away from her. After a few seconds, Snake let out a defeated sigh, "yeah".

Cortana straighten up and sighed as well, "damn, your world must be full of idiots if you're the best Covert Operative they have" She spoke in a passive-aggressive manner.

Before Snake could voice his objection to that insulting clam, she snapped her fingers towards the Titan's decomposing corpse; taking them back to the topic at hand. "Get. Him. Out. Pronto".

After her statement, her body deteriorated back into the bulbs in his exoskeleton's palm. Snake huffed and harshly closed his hand. The result of that action brought a 40cmx10cm blade out from the Exoskeleton's forearm. The blade was designed as an emergency replacement weapon in case any personal wearing the Omni-Vertical Gear were to lose their firearm in battle. Snake snarled as he impaled the Titan's thick hide and carved into it. Snake entered the open wound and continue to cut through the disintegrating mass, making a tunnel toward the Titan's inners. As Snake continued to push further into the monstrosity, he felt as if the environment inside the Titan was that of a sauna. If the sauna was 100 degrees, kept spring boiling blood from its walls, every surface was uncomfortably mushy and it reeked of decaying matter. As Snake continued to carve his way through the beast, he started to notice how easy it was the longer the curve into the rapidly greying flesh. "Go a little to your left" the voice of Cortana said, emanating from his ear-com.

Following her guidance, he pushed towards the left; right before the flesh under his right foot gave way. Plummeting forward, his momentum and body weight easily ripped through the meat-walls in front of him and into a foul-smelling chamber of mucus and blood. He remained airborne for only half a second before plummeting into a liquid subtends feet first. He tumbled within the liquid, arms flaying and splashing in order to keep himself upright as he tried to find his footing under the foul fluid. Luckily for him, he found his footing soon enough. After regaining his composure, he took in his surroundings and covered his mouth in order not to throw-up. "Well, it looks like you're in the stomach" Cortana quipped.

It was the stomach alright. Vulgar and horrifying weren't even words accurate enough to describe the stench and look of the oozing organ. He had scoured through many disgusting places during his career, many places that would cause people to bleach themselves afterwards just to get rid of the memory of being there but this defiantly took the cake. Heavy clouds of steamy mist hung in the air, and what little air there was, was filled with the mix of faeces and rotten flesh. The stomach acid he was swimming in was more slime than liquid, almost jelly like in substance- adopting the colour of murky brownish-red. Snake could barely see within the misty organ; the only light was coming through the sunlight glowing behind a thin layer of skin. "You have to hurry up, you only have two minutes" Cortana stated.

Snake grunted in response while upholstering his FN Five-seveN and turning on the flashlight attachment; starting his search for his missing teammate. It only took half a minute of trudging through the liquid slough for him to find the floating body of Geralt of Rivia. Fortunately, Geralt was floating on his back. Holstering his handgun, Snake rummaged through the thick stomach acid and scooped up the Witcher, carrying his unconscious body in his arms. Snake placed his fingers on Geralt's neck, search for his pulse.

 _…_

 _Thump-Thump_

 _…_

 _Thump-Thump_

 _…_

"Got a pulse, he's good" Snake proclaimed.

Snake raised his hand over Geralt's face, the lights on his palm glowed before projecting a thin sheet of light onto Geralt's body. He then tracing his hand down Geralt's body. "Don't see any external injuries. Any internal?" Snake asked, just before the sheet of light dissipated.

It only took a second for Cortana to process the information from the scan. "A few broken bones, bruised rips- the likes. Nothing to fatal. A shot of his Swallow should fix him"

Nodding, Snake prepared to leave the disgusting orifice. Only when Snake pulled Geralt's whole body out of the slime did he realise something was missing from Geralt. "Where are his swords?" Snake questioned, looking left and right.

"Behind you, on your right" Cortana quickly responded.

Sure enough, the two swords were there, one floating above the surface while the hilt of the other one was barely piercing the surface of the acid. Hurrying over, Snake yanked the lodged sword, holstered it on Geralt's back and grabbed the one floating. Tumbled through the murky muck and to the other side of the stomach; the side with the rabidly decaying walls of grey. Throwing the Witcher over his shoulder, he braced the Silver Sword in his other. "Ready?" Cortana quested.

 _"….Let's go"_

* * *

When Geralt arose from his sudden slumber, his body felt only five things; pain, more pain, unbearable pain, agony, and wetness. An aching grunt vibrated out from his mouth has his mind registered the sensation he had become accustomed to over his life time. A violent cough soon followed after- bring forth a familiar taste to his palette. 'Swallow?' Geralt mentally questioned.

He gagged as his trusted healing recipe reared its unappealing flavour to his tongue. It was indeed Swallow, as he then conducted that the pains in his body were a result of Swallow over-clocking his cell-growth, allowing his wounds to heal faster. By the pain he felt, he would have guessed the Swallow was applied to him only a few minutes ago.

Several seconds passed and one by one, he felt his senses slowly returned to him. His sight once blurred now lifted, allowing to view the passing light grey clouds that lazily sailed through the open sky above; a few of their bodies peeling away to revel the early morning sun. He smelt the air around him, picking up the faintness scent of steam out of the overwhelming aroma of burning wood. Beyond the pain, he felt the wetness of the cold ground under him and a warm heat to his right. Also to his right, he could hear the squawks and wet leather-on-leather rubbing of someone moving, as well as a faint voice coming from it. "He's awake".

He recognised that voice from anywhere, Cortana; the A.I construct that boggled all of his knowledge of technology and magic. However, the one wearing tight leather he couldn't tell, from all the smoke clouding his nose and him unable to move. He only knew two people who would wear such a thing: Misato and-

"Finally awake huh?"

"Unfortunately,"

The deep, gruff voice that could rival his own belonged to Solid Snake. The tactical espionage operator from another world. Geralt casted his eyes over to where the voice came from, finding Snake sitting on a torn rock, one leg propped on the other, with a dismembered weapon, FN somthing-seveN or desert Engle if he remembered correctly, resting in his lap. Something between a stern look and a grin was on his face as he too was watching him. Geralt closed his eyes and huffed, he's familiar distain for him resurfacing. Geralt didn't truly hate the tactical espionage operator, far from it; he did however have several bad past experiences with him, cultivating in him disliking Snake.

"You're surprise to see me?"

Fighting through the numbing sensation along his body, he lifted himself up; mud and over gunk still clinging to his body. His muscles flared in pain as effects of Swallow left and only the fatigue remained "I knew Cortana would send someone out to look over me" He looked at Snake was a neutral expression "-But I wouldn't think she would have chosen you"

Sitting up, Geralt could look over Snake and his seat to find a large crater behind him, the crumbling remains of the Titan within it. Snake must have known what Geralt saw because a prominent smirked soon arose from his face. He dug into one of his breast pouches. "No one else wanted to come, either they were still annoyed about you going against an Abnormal-Titan without the Vertical Gear on-"he then threw whatever was in his pocket at Geralt. "-or they weren't up to the challenge of protecting you".

Geralt looked at the object in his palm, an ear piece, standard issue communicator among their group and other curtain individuals; way better than luging around that brick of a Xenovox or setting up a Megascope. "Great 'protecting' by the way" Geralt sarcastically mumbled as he fitted the comm-device into his ear.

"It wasn't my fault that you threw yourself into the Titan's mouth! And how was I to know that the Titan would do that?" Snake defended himself.

Before Geralt could argue, the comm he just placed in his ear turned on as Cortana's voice emerged from it, "The Titan was one of our abnormal ones we captured, code name: No-Neck"

Snake's eyes widen for a brief moment while Geralt's own just held resentment. "If I would have known it was him, I would've brought the gear" Geralt mumbled.

"No-Neck?" Snake asked, a questioned look on his face.

"No-Neck has the abnormal ability to dislocate its neck and spine to turn its head hundred and eighty degrees without damaging the Nape and any of its nerve systems, making attacking its weak spot a nearly suicidal move. It's very well known within the Scout Regiment for its multiple sightings and the many casualties it caused" Cortana gave a speech that left both Geralt and Solid Snake void of life and brain cells for a few minutes.

After a while, both men snapped out of his trance. "You really don't know what Titans are what that live under our basement?" Geralt asked in a flat tone, using all of his remaining energy to stop from slapping himself.

"In my defence, I'm barely ever at the estate" Snake yet again defended himself.

"Yet you're supposed to defend me from the Titan. You know, I could have died back there" Geralt rebuttal.

"But you didn't"

"But I could have"

"But you didn't"

"But I could have"

"BUT, you didn't"

"BUT, I could have"

"Oh my god, I'm dealing with a group of toddlers" Cortana cried out.

"I want to go home mummy" Both Snake and Geralt jokingly said at the same time, while both holding a smile as they spoke.

Cortana slammed both her hands onto her face, "Shut up you morons"

Cortana and Snake both let out a fit of laughter while Geralt just grinned. After catching his breath, Snake arose from his seat on the rock and reached behind it. With a grunt, he lighted two large metal suitcases; Omni-Vertical Combat Gear. "You all good to fly?" he asked.

Geralt slowly rose from the ground, grumbling in pain as he stood on his two legs. He found his body was trying to resist a majority of his movements; however, he pushed through it, wanting to get out of here and back into a warm bed. "A little stiff and sore, but I'll manage"

Snake then handed to case over to Geralt, "Come on, let's get out of here"

As soon as Snake's hand left the case for him to hold, Geralt almost tumbled over as the case's weight was pushed onto him. His body once again screaming in pain and tiredness, the case landed on the ground with a powerful thud. Snake looked down to him in concern, words of worry almost leaving his mouth were silenced was Geralt arose without a pained look but a steady nod towards him.

"You sure you're alright?" Cortana asked.

The only response she received from the Witcher was a small sigh from him and a more gruffer voice than usual. "I'm fine…. maybe…I might have a few bruised bones"

"We'll have Medic look over you once we're there" Cortana spoke, happy that her usual prying did its job.

Placing their respected cases on the ground, both Snake and Geralt went to the equip stage of the Gear, the automated voice stating each stage and the metal bindings, pistons and poles tightening and fitting around their bodies. "Just make sure he doesn't try to take my eyeballs again, or try to replace my gallbladder with that of a cow's own"

"Can't make any promises" Cortana jokingly stated.

"Can't I'm afraid, I need to head over to Shiganshina District as soon as we head back to the estate" Snake spoke in a solemn tone.

Geralt's eyebrows arched in question. "Why though? You only just arrived two days ago."

Snake sighed, either out of frustration of all these questions or out of tiredness. "Keith got in contact with me a few days ago, he said he found something during the 23rd expeditions. Said something about a large, metal door with skulls on it"

Geralt's eyebrows arched even further, while Cortana perked up at the news. "Really?! Was there anything else, any other description? And why haven't we already been informed about this?" Cortana demanded, a flare of anger within her speech.

"Is it something we need to look over?" Geralt threw his two-cents into the mix.

"He didn't specify what it was- he said it wasn't too important to contact all of us-"

"That'll be us to judge" Cortana snapped.

Geralt just sighed before responding, "I'll come with you"

Snake just looked down and exhaled, "Fine"

"And John, Jonathan and Nick will come with us"

"Really? I get John and Nick but Jonathan?" Snake asked and surprisingly, Cortana gave a questionable glance.

Geralt shrugged at their looks and responded, "He told me he wanted to get out of the house for a bit, wanted a change of scenery"

"He can leave anytime he wants, he's a grown man" Cortana flatly specified.

"He wants to get out 'Incognito'. His 'friends' always seemed to follow him where ever he goes, like flies of shit; and what better way than to travel with us" Geralt defended his logic.

A sigh came from Snake as the questionnaire was concluded, "Fine, he can come".

Once the Exo-skeletons had fully embraced their bodies, both Snake and Geralt clenched their hands and flexed their bodies, the skeleton responding to every movement with their requested command. Geralt casted his eyes to the far tree-line, looking to one of the larger, taller trees that plotted some of the line, and thrust his shoulder towards one of them. A sharp bang was heard and his harpoon was sent flying towards the trees. A loud thunk was heard in the distance, followed by a small _'ding'_ from Geralt's shoulder; verifying a successful harpoon attachment. Snake then copied Gralt's moves, he himself attached to a tree and ready to move. Geralt and Snake looked to each other and nod their heads, the LEDs on the Exo-skeletons blinked to convey Cortana's own acknowledgement. "Let's go" all three of them said.

The thrusters on suits came to life and launched them into the air, the wires retracting at extraordinary speeds. Rising well above ground level, the crack of the cable losing its slack the only thing the two men heard before the howling winds and the rush of blood deafened them as they shot straight into forest. Their destination was a small peck in the distance; a building- their home.

Where Humanity's Titans sleep.

* * *

 _U.N.S.C Field Terminal_

 ** _Database contributors/authors: [U.N.S.C Smart A.I- CTN 0452-9 (Alias: Cortana)], [Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 (_** ** _SPARTAN-II)]_**

 ** _Database Category: Other worlds/parallel/dimensions_**

 ** _Subject: Witcher_**

 ** _Entry 1# - Geralt of Rivia_**

Name: Geralt of Rivia

Gender: male

Age: 190

Race: Witcher (Human: former), Caucasian

Height: 6'17"/ 188cms/ 1.8m

Weight: 185 lbs/ 84kg

Notable features: Beached-white hair, Amber cat-like eyes, Pale skin

Bio: Geralt of Rivia is a monster hunter for hire, a Witcher as he is called in his world. He possesses superhuman abilities and is a master swordsman. He was taken from his home as a child to School of the Wolf at the stronghold of Kaer Morhen. There, Geralt was trained and made to be a Witcher. Geralt's intensive training, and the mutagenic experimentation carried out upon him, have granted him considerably greater strength, speed, endurance, resilience, healing, senses, complete immunity to diseases and conventional poisons, and an extreme resistance to pain. Personality wise, he is apathetic, cynical, and threatening towards strangers. However, after explaining Serira-117 and Cortana's blight and mentioning the Lake (Along with some convincing by Nick Valentine), Geralt was soon apathetic towards them. Soon, he opened up more, becoming for friendly and caring.

In all of the categories, regarding and detailing information gathered by U.N.S.C Smart A.I Cortana and Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 since discovering the uncharted world (currently labelled UC- Simul) and Geralt's own world, Geralt is the known oldest living individual currently residing on UC-Simul. Geralt is the second person to arrive at UC-Simul via the Lake, emerging from it in 801 (current year: 830).

 ** _Database contributors/authors: [U.N.S.C Smart A.I- CTN 0452-9 (Alias: Cortana)], [Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 (_** ** _SPARTAN-II)]_**

 ** _Database Category: Other worlds/parallel/dimensions_**

 ** _Subject: Witcher_**

 ** _Entry 4# - Signs_**

In all the supernatural powers and entities Searira-117 and Cortana had discovered, Geralt of Rivia's "Signs" are by far the weakest but most versatile. As quoted by the Witcher himself, 'Signs are the basic of spell castings, normally performed by Nomads. Witchers aren't taught much in the way of spells; only ones that were quick, easy to learn, reliable and less energy draining. Witchers only had time to learn how to find, identify and kill monsters before they set on The Path'. Further on, he described each Sign:

Aard: This sign allows the Witcher to force enemies back by manipulating kinetic energy surrounding him, in the form of a lightning bolt. Geralt can also transform it into a kinetic Sphere, creating an area of effect that pushes . Excellent when you need some breathing room.

Igni: This sign grants Geralt the ability of pyrokinesis to shoot a continuous jet of flame from his hand. This is primarily ideal for combat situations handling Titans and groups of opponents.

Yrden: A ray of symbols arranged in a circle, the sign employed slows down all enemies that enter its range. If Geralt can continuously focus on the Sign, the Sign can cause damage to an individual in the circle.

Quen: his sign creates an active shield that disappears after a hit (or several when upgraded) its alternate form is a bubble shield that can be maintained as long as the player has vigor to spare.

Axii: A mind altering spell. This has several uses, both in and outside of combat. Axii can be used on individuals with low or other psychological issues to 'plant' a suggestion in the mind, effectively creating the lesser ability to mind control the individual. These can lead to many things: avoiding conflict, retrieving information effectively, or during combat, making the controlled individual attack his/her allies in a blind rage.

Heliotrop: It is made by crossing one's wrists, and works as a buffer against physical and magical attacks.

Somne: It is used to put the target to sleep, and may possibly also leave them open to some form of suggestion

After further discussion, Geralt of Rivia detailed several other schools of spells related to his world. Some of these spells include psychokinetic, pyrokinetic, transmutation and teleportation to name a few. It should also be noted that it takes several years to learn advanced spells, normally mages and witches require youth retaining spells; with some noted witches and mages being 200+ years old.

 ** _Database contributors/authors: [U.N.S.C Smart A.I- CTN 0452-9 (Alias: Cortana)], [Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 (_** ** _SPARTAN-II)]_**

 ** _Database Category: Other worlds/parallel/dimensions_**

 ** _Subject: Witcher_**

 ** _Entry 58# - Potions and Oils_**

As stated by Geralt of Rivia, potions and oils are commonly used among his race when in the face of combat or traveling on dangerous roads. Made through enhanced alchemy, a Witcher can make use of powerful potions like the healing remedy called Swallow, that would be lethal to a normal human. However, through experimentation, it has been proven that a normal human could ingest the potions if the ingredients were fewer. Through the effect of the potion won't be as powerful. These specialty potions can do everything from granting night vision, increased regenerative capabilities and more. Potions also have a negative effect on the user. Each potion one concocts has a certain level of toxicity to it. Meaning that if the user drinks too many potions at once, he/she will become sick and begin to lose health. He/she through can cure the toxicity by taking White Honey.

Most common potions used by members of The Lost Souls:

Thunderbolt – Increases Melee Attack Power

Swallow - Accelerates Vitality regeneration.

Blizzard - Improves reflexes and prolongs reaction time

Full Moon - Increases Maximum Vitality

Golden Oriole - Grants immunity to poisons, neutralizes effects of poisons already in the bloodstream

Cat - Grants sight in total darkness

Killer Whale - Increases breath supply while underwater by 50% and improves vision while diving

Tawny Owl - Accelerates Stamina regeneration

White Honey - Clears Toxicity and cancels active potions

Oils are items crafted through Alchemy that can temporarily buff your weapons. Once made, an oil can be applied to your steel or silver sword, and will stay in effect for several hits. During this time, all strikes against the right enemy will deal additional damage.

Oil used by members of H.T:

Cursed Oil – Cured Oil is an oil based remedy used to coat weapons or ammunition with in order to effectively damage and kill Cursed Ones. Cursed Ones, as described by Master Witcher Geralt of Rivia, were beings that were once human but underwent some form of mutation or magical involvement that stripped them from their mantel of humanity and transformed them into a beast. This description started U.N.S.C Smart A.I Cortana's theory of Titan Evolution that Titans evolved from the Human species or are the result of an unknown mutation that transformed Humans into the Titanic Species. The oil seems to be effective against Titans, as it postpones a Titan's healing and causes unbearable pain onto them.

 **!Warning: Classified intel!**

 **The following Subject is only for the eyes of: Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) Personnel**

 ** _Database contributor/s/author/s: [U.N.S.C Smart A.I- CTN 0452-9 (Alias: Cortana)]_**

 ** _Database Category: Other worlds/parallel/dimensions_**

 ** _Subject: Witcher_**

 ** _Classified Entry 1# - Witchers and The Trial of the Grasses_**

After two years of trying to pry and interrogating the Witcher for his origins (e.g. home world/dimension, powers and race), the Witcher fore go information regarding himself and his own race. He detailed how the entirety of his race was comprised of male humans (the Witcher also described humans as Nords as well- Possible link to Norwegian civilisation) who underwent intense alchemical processes along with the consumption of mutagenic compounds, followed up with relentless physical and magical training to make them dangerous and highly versatile against their vast array of opponents, many of which possess superhuman speed, strength and/or other deadly powers. All of these presagers equate to an event called The Trial of the Grasses; the final step in which a human is turned into a Witcher.

Strangely enough, the information the Witcher provided about the Trial of the Grasses is disturbingly similar to Project ORION. The proceedings follow:

 **The requirement of child subjects -** Where ONI acquired the SPARTAN-II subjects through capturing the subject unwillingly and replacing the subjects with flash-clones (in order to keep the secrecy of Project ORION), Witchers acquire their subjects through a human tradition or law known as The Law of Surprise (See entry 24# - Law of Surprise). In short, the Law dictates that a man saved by another is expected to offer to his saviour a reward whose nature is unknown to one or both parties. In many cases, this reward can be a child. Another note is the requirements for the children to become eligible to become a Witcher. ONI provided to information that all SPARTAN-II subjects were taken by a gene-candidate pool (relation to the SPARTAN-I Project), and fit into a certain age restriction protocol (six years old). They must also possess superior physical and mental attributes when compared to other children their age. This narrowed the candidates down to children who would be raised and taught in the art of warfare and military values from a young age, which cannot be taught to older enlisted personnel. The Witchers have a more lenient canadine acceptation pool though, as they will take any child to train them into becoming a Witcher; only if the child is male. Any female canadines will be rejected. This is due to an unproven rumour that if any female that performs the Trial of the Grasses will servilely impact their hormonal levels and leave them deformed.

 **The training of child subjects -** The creators of the Witchers project seem to had come to the same conclusion as Project ORION Head Science Officer Doctor Catharine Halsey of ONI Section III's Special Projects Division had found about the child subjects; Children were more likely to surcome to the brutal training, high-level education and life-threatening augmentations, due to their bodies and minds still within the developing stage. Both Projects processed to train the subjects, both proved to be brutal and violent. The SPARTAIN-IIs were taught in the art of warfare and military values. The Witchers were taught in the ways of the Sword, magical castings known as Signs, how to defeat monsters and how to get paid after the job is done. Out of the two pre-augmentation/mutation training regiments, the Witchers' methods proved far more fatal. This is contributed by many possibilities and factors: the subjects may not be physically prepared and/or abled to complete the tasks, the instructors are too brutal in their teaching methods or unhygienic environments brought about diseases.

 **The Augmentation operation/ The Trial of the Grasses –** The final stage of both Witcher and SPARTAN-II training, the operation in which the subjects will transform into something more than human; perfect killing machines. Within these trials, many casualties were held. The SPARTAN-IIs suffered 30 casualties, with 12 other subjects becoming paralysed from the operation; leaving only 33 active SPARTANs ready for duty. The number of Witchers made in Geralt's history wasn't specified, however, he did give a rate of three children out of ten surviving the Trial, giving us a 30% success rate. Another daunting similarity between the two processes.

 **Witcher purpose –** SPARTAN-IIs were created for one thing; to be a super human. A weapon to stem the tide of the war between the Instgentcy and the U.N.S.C. They were however transformed into humanity's beacon of hope and salvation when the Human-Covalent War began. They were the representation of human will, power and purpose. A SPARTAN's only goal is to follow the chain of command and carry out any orders to the fullest of their abilities and go beyond that.

The power and purpose of a Witcher is just to be a sword for hire; more linking to pest control and animal handling. Witchers were created to steam the tide of supernatural dangers that were the result of an event known as the Conjunction of Spheres.

* * *

 **Here it is ladies and gentlemen. My first rewrite of my multi-crossover story, the one that only had one cringe-worthy chapter and never got off the ground. I hope everyone loved the characters I put in and how I portray them, if not, leave a comment in the reviews or PM me to inform me so I can change their personalities to match their canon counter-parts.**

 **Also, if you want, you could leave some character suggestions in the reviews. I might incorporate them into the story.**

 **Expect this story to have longer waiting periods of each chapter (because of planning and writing). Anyway, I don't own any of this. Until next time; this is The Alamore, signing out**


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